


Gravity

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Legacy [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dark!Dick, M/M, his time with Spyral did something to him, possessive Dick, slightly less mentally sound Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:37:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being <i>dead</i> changed who Dick was. Now, he didn't know. Home was no longer home, Dick Grayson no longer felt like a person- and Nightwing felt like dead skin. All he had left, now that he was back among the <i>living</i>, was his little bird and the thoughts that had haunted him for years, while he was away. All he had was lost time that he needed to reclaim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of nowhere. Really. Probably give [Hollywood Undead's "Gravity"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbPJ4c8-T9U) a listen once while reading. It started this mess.

_"'Cause I- I think of you now and then._  
_The memories never end when gravity pulls you in."_  
\- Hollywood Undead, "Gravity" 

He thought of him, when Dick knew he absolutely _shouldn’t_.

His boots dug into the pavement he landed on, as he stared up at the Gotham city skyline. Dark, velvet black with those little glimmers of stars. Past the building lights, the billboards, past the sky scrappers-

_Home_.

And home meant _Damian_.

Dick tugged on his gloves, keeping them firmly in place. He was a guest in Gotham now, he had to tell himself. You disappear for years, people think you’re _dead_ , and well...home just isn’t the same after that. Setting up in Bludhaven had helped him deal with that, but it hadn’t helped with the ghost of the one thing he’d left behind in Gotham he wished he hadn’t.

His little bird. _His Robin_.

Dick’s gut seized into knots at the mere _thought_ of the boy being his. But it was the truth. Damian had always belonged to him. As a child, and as an adult now, he did. Dick knew it, down in his bones.

He knew it the moment he’d donned the cowl and given Damian his suit. Perhaps then, the connotation of _ownership_ had been different, more...paternal. But now? Dick had stopped lying to himself, long ago, over what this was.

This was desire. This was lust driven down to its raw components, mixed back together with a raging need to _take_ , to _cover_ , to _mark and own_ as if there was someone who would take Damian from him.

There was. There was a _whole city_.

A city that, Dick knew now, had a Bat running freely, but not bird this night. That meant Damian was at the Manor. _Alone_.

Exactly how he wanted him.

Dick thought of him on the drive to the Manor. He thought of Damian growing up, before he had disappeared, before Dick had _died_. He thought of the boy who had a special sort of smirk for him, a playfulness in his eyes once he was _older_.

He thought of the boy he had come home to, who stood taller then him now, who looked as if he had seen a ghost when Dick was finally allowed to re-enter the family’s life. He thought of Damian as an adult, and realized all his dreams of what he might _become_ had never given the boy the potential he truly had.

He was beautiful, and it made Dick nearly sick.

He pulled up to the Manor, left his car in plain sight. He would be gone before Bruce returned. Instead of entering through the front door, he walked around the Manor, over the grass that had that extra _spring_ in it, under his feet, until he could see Damian’s bedroom window. The room was dark, the window was shut, but he would take his chances that it wasn’t locked.

He shot a hook shot up, rode the wire until he was on the ledge, pushing the window open, staring into the dark room. He could see Damian, in his bed, turned away from the window. Gentle movements, his breaths, and Dick waited a moment before stepping down from the ledge, leaving the window open.

His footsteps were silent across the floor, years of practice- proven so by the fact that Damian did not wake. He stopped next to the bed, staring down at him, and for a moment, Damian was small again- so small that Dick could have gathered him up in his arms, carried him out through the window. Run away with him like a treasure, and kept him all for himself.

All those years he missed, he would have them _back_.

He reached out, placed his gloved hand to Damian’s shoulder, squeezing. The teen stirred, turning his head, before rolling onto his back, staring up. “Grayson?” His voice was quiet, his eyes seemed heavy. The fact that Damian _slept_ now was something Dick enjoyed.

He could imagine the joys of having a half-waking Damian curling up into him, the little sounds he would make. How _warm_ he would be.

“What are you doing here?” Damian sat up, rubbing at one of his eyes. He seemed younger then he had been, when Dick first left. It was strange.

Dick said nothing for a moment, reaching down, running his gloved hand through Damian’s hair, brushing the short strands back. The teen stared up at him, frowning.

“If you’re looking for father,” he started, “then you have completely forgotten where his room is. And he is on patrol.” Dick shook his head.

“I was looking for you, little bird.” A subtle flush rose on Damian’s cheeks over the pet name, and Dick’s hand traveled over the back curve of his skull, to cup the back of his neck. “I want to take you home now.”

“I am home,” Damian whispered, and the words weren’t convincing. Dick leaned down, close to his face, imposing, almost terrifying in his domino mask, as _Nightwing_ after the figure had been absent from Gotham for so long.

And would remain so.

“Are you now?” Dick whispered, fingers flexing. Damian shifted, tilting his head back slightly to better stare up into those masked eyes. Once upon a time, Dick wouldn’t have argued. He might have agreed, that Gotham should be Damian’s _home_. That it was his own.

Years being a _dead man_ change your concept of home, drastically. It will change who you are, down in your core.

Maybe this wouldn’t have had to happen, if Dick hadn’t gone away. He wouldn’t feel the need to take back what was his, what was stolen from him. Maybe he would have been content in Gotham, sharing his precious Robin with the rest of the city.

As it was, it was taking all his will power not to drag him away that very second. But no. Damian had to _follow_.

Damian didn’t respond, and Dick’s lips curled, slightly. “How I missed you,” he whispered, his other hand coming up, knuckles rubbing along Damian’s cheek. “Did you miss me?” A gentle nod, and Dick chuckled. “How badly?” Damian’s cheeks darkened a shade further, and Dick smirked. “Was it as badly as I missed you, little bird?”

Another drag of his knuckles across Damian’s cheek, and Dick was leaning closer, breathing against his mouth- what he wanted so close, yet he didn’t take it. Not yet. Another moment.

“You grew up,” he whispered, knowing he had said so, when Bruce had introduced him back to the family, a month prior. _Alive_. But since then, Dick had been able to truly think on just how Damian had grown. “You’re not my little bird anymore.”

“No,” Damian breathed, reaching up, curling his fingers around Dick’s wrist, stilling his knuckles against his warm cheek. Dick could just feel it through his glove. “I’m _always_ your little bird.”

That was _exactly_ what Dick needed to hear.

He pulled Damian forward, one hand still at the back of his neck, and pressed his mouth against his. Damian yielded without hesitation, lips following Dick’s heavy, wet movements. He tilted his head back further, bared his mouth for Dick who greedily took it, pressed his tongue past warm lips to run along points of sharp teeth. He felt Damian shiver, his fingers around Dick’s wrist tightening. When Dick pulled back, Damian’s breaths came in small, excited pants against his wet lips.

“Did you dream of what while I was dead?” Damian nodded, as Dick climbed onto the bed, a leg going between Damian’s thighs, as Dick stradled one, sinking both hands into his hair, tugging his head back. He pressed his mouth to Damian’s bare throat, sucked on warm, copper skin, as the boy whined, until it was red, until it threatened an ugly bruise. “And that?” Dick whispered, breathing against the sensitive patch. Damian squirmed.

He nodded, licking his lips. “Do you know-“ he paused, moaned, as Dick lapped at a fresh patch of skin, before sucking on it, forming a new bruise. “-know how _guilty_ I felt.”

“Mmm, guilt. Why?” He nuzzled Damian’s neck, inhaled the spicy scent of his skin, his shampoo and soap, the faded effects of his cologne.

“You were _dead_ Grayson. I fantasized about the dead.”

“You fantasized about me while I was living,” Dick pointed out, before he dragged his teeth along Damian’s throat. The teen’s breath caught. “I saw it in your eyes, before I disappeared. Saw those looks you gave me. You were so small then.” One of his hands left Damian’s hair, smoothed down between his shoulder blades, gloved fingers moving along his bare back. “ _You grew up_. And I missed it.”

Damian said nothing, only tilted his head to the side so Dick could access more skin, suck another nasty bruise into him. His other hand left Damian’s hair, slipping between them, under the blanket, gripping at Damian’s cock through his pajama pants. The teen gasped, pushed up into that touch, as Dick’s mouth detached from his skin, a wet sort of suction sound as he broke his hold on the skin.

Damian was hard, and it had Dick’s mind reeling. Once, he would have been disgusted with himself, for the way he lusted after the boy he had over ten years on. But now- well, time changes things. Time changes _people_.

Dick Grayson was a different man. Who always knew his Robin would grow up to be the prettiest. Who was still shocked at just how perfect his feathers were.

Damian reached up, wrapped his arms around Dick’s neck as he stroked up through the fabric, the material creating a rough friction on Damian’s sensitive skin. He squirmed, eyelids fluttering once as he tried to hold Dick’s gaze, couldn’t find it with that damn mask present.

“This wouldn’t be happening,” Damian whispered, “If you hadn’t left.” Dick said nothing, didn’t deny that Damian was right. He would have never accepted his attraction to the boy if he hadn’t disappeared for so long, hadn’t found himself after dying. No.

Damian tugged, falling back onto his back, and Dick followed, covering the boy as they kissed again, this time Damian pushing back, his own tongue pressing to Dick’s, trying desperately to get inside his mouth. Dick pinned him, grasped at the sheets as Damian rocked his hips up against him, trying to find friction.

Dick ground down into him, gave that friction to him, loved the way he moaned into his mouth. He had thought to wait, until he had Damian safely in Bludhaven, before he fully took him. But he knew in that moment waiting was _not_ an option. Not with the way Damian hooked a leg back over his thighs, the way he pushed his hips up, kissed Dick back as if this was all he had thought about in the years Dick was gone.

Maybe it _was_.

Dick finally pushed off him, rolling him over and grasping at his pajama pants, tugging them off. Damian lifted his hips, his cock pressing down against the sheets when it was freed. Dick ignored it, grasping Damian’s ass instead, squeezing the flesh and loving the way the teen moaned. His gloved hands felt almost alien, but Dick knew there was no way for Damian to deny who it was, even if Dick was in full Nightwing gear.

Not that he _felt_ like Nightwing anymore. He didn’t feel like _anyone_.

He leaned down, sucked at the base of Damian’s spine, between the small dimples of his lower back, as the teen squirmed, until he was satisfied with the little bruise he’d left behind. Then he parted flesh, exhaled once against Damian’s hole, before he let his tongue run over it, in wet, heavy strokes. Damian groaned, tried to spread his legs, face burying in his pillow as Dick’s fingers pressed into his ass cheeks so hard he would bruise.

Dick heard every little sound Damian gave him, despite the pillow. Heard the pants, the whines, the little mewl as he pressed his tongue just into his body, before pulling back out. Heard them and committed them to memory, where they far surpassed what he had dreamt up, on those lonely nights when he had finally given into desire, had taken himself in hand and thought about his Robin all grown up, what he had to be now.

Slimmer then Dick imagined. _He liked it_.

Damian moaned, pushed back against Dick’s mouth. Dick smirked, gave him one final lick, before he pulled back, wiping his chin on the back of his hand. He reached down, opened a pouch on hie belt as Damian pushed himself up, glanced back at him. He tossed a small bottle to the bed.

“Open yourself up for me,” he whispered, “Like you did when you thought I was a ghost.”

Damian’s hands were shaking when he took the bottle.

Was it fear or lust? Dick honestly hoped it was a bit of both. He had seen the love born of fear. He had seen the _truth of it_. He wanted Damian to fear him _because he loved him so much_.

He sat back as Damian reached back, awkwardly from the angle- but _oh_ , he didn’t move, because he must have been so sure that Dick wanted him like this, and Dick _did_. He traced two slick fingers around his hole, before easing them in, groaning at the stretch, not stopping until they were fully inside. Dick watched, intent, felt his own cock aching inside his suit.

“Are you slow, or fast, little bird?” he whispered, and Damian moved his fingers _slowly_ , almost lazy thrusts.

“Slow,” he whispered, “Because I always thought you would take me _fast_. That you’d want me warmed up until I was- ah-“ he moaned, curling his fingers, hips shifting. His cock was still heavy and flushed, untouched. “- _so close_. So that you could do whatever you _wanted_ with me.”

Dick bared his teeth, almost feral, wanted to jump onto the boy, to press his cock so far into Damian that he could feel the utter heat of his core. Instead he continued to sit back, watched as Damian thrust, until he added a third finger, the motions growing faster, more jerky. His rhythm was being lost.

“You’re desperate,” Dick mused, “ _already_.”

Damian sucked on his lip for a moment. “Wanted this,” he whispered, “For so long.” Dick grinned then, moving off the bad, grasping the bottle of lube. He pulled a single glove off with his teeth, tossing it to the bed, and worked the lower half of his suit open, until he had his cock free. Popping the cap open, he tipped the bottle, watched the lube fall in a drizzled line along his length, before he tossed the bottle off with his glove and stroked his naked hand along his cock, spreading the wetness. Damian shifted, pulled his fingers free jut as Dick’s glove hand grasped at his hip.

Damian pushed it away. “No,” he whispered, “Not like this.” He rolled onto his back, sliding down to the edge of the bed, spreading his legs so that Dick fit perfectly between them. “You’ve been gone so long,” he whispered, “That I- I need to _see you_.”

Dick smiled, reaching his gloved hand down, stroking along Damian’s cheek. The boy turned, nuzzled into his palm, as Dick’s other hand held his cock, Damian’s hips lifting, legs hooking around his waist as Dick eased into him. The first thrust was slow, and Damian exhaled into his glove, kissed his palm-

And then Dick was pulling back, thrusting up into him without reverse, and Damian gave a loud cry, hands fisting in the sheets. Dick grinned, his naked hand gripping Damian’s hip, helping to guide him to meet each thrust, as his thumb traced Damian’s mouth, tugged on his lump lower lip, exposed his teeth for a moment. Damian let him, pink tongue darting out to flick against the glove, before Dick was slipping that hand behind his head, pulling him up so he could lean over, kiss him as his hips rocked.

Damian’s arms wrapped around his neck, fingers dug into his shoulder blades. Blunt nails would’ve broken flesh, had Dick undressed. Still, Dick hissed into his neck. He’d be walking away with marks, just as Damian would. Bruises.

Perhaps ownership was mutual.

Dick panted for breath around Damian’s mouth and tongue, felt his legs squeezing around him after each brutal thrust. Between them, Damian’s cock would brush along Dick’s abs, every few thrusts, and by the way Damian was making utterly broken sounds into his mouth, _it was enough_.

Dick didn’t even need to tell the boy. He squeezed the back of his neck, nerves causing Damian to tense up as he thrust in so hard the boy broke the kiss, _screamed_ , his orgasm leaving both their bellies wet. He clenched up so tightly around Dick that his thrusts grew shallow, quick, jerking movements of his hips- but it was enough, before Damian’s orgasm had barely ended when Dick was growling, coming himself, leaving Damian’s insides feeling hot, with liquid fire.

Damian always ran hot, but apparently everything _inside_ Dick was hotter still.

The teen fell back against the bed, limp, panting. Dick pulled out of him, tucking himself away and straightening the bottom half of his suit, before he leaned over, reaching out with his bare hand and gripping Damian’s chin, holding him still as he leaned over, kissed him. Softly.

“We’re leaving,” he whispered, “You and me. You have five minutes to get dressed and pack.” Damian said nothing, was still trying to catch his breath, as Dick grabbed his glove, pulling away from him and straightening up, tugging it back on. He walked back to the window, kept his back to the boy as he pulled himself from the bed, wincing slightly over the ache between his legs.

Dick didn’t need to see it to know it was there. But there was no other way this could happen. Their first coupling, it had to be desperate, raw. Rushed and leaving them both pained. Like what had ripped them apart.

Dick closed his eyes, timing Damian silently. He did not fear standing against Bruce now, to take the boy. _No_. But he wanted to avoid it, for the moment. He wanted to spirit his little bird away, lock them both up in his safe house in Bludhaven and give them a few days to get properly reacquainted.

Without the clock working against him. When he had the time to truly learn each curve, each new scar, on his darling.

Dick turned when he heard Damian walking up behind him. He had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, the hood of his black hoodie pulled up. His jeans were tucked into his Robin boots, and Dick could only grin. God, did he love those boots.

He was sure Damian _knew_ that.

He didn’t say a word, just held out his hand, and Damian took it, climbing up onto the window as Dick stepped out onto the ledge.

The boy didn’t even ask where they were going. What they would be doing. His trust was blind, undying. His love, unquestionable.

Dick knew this, and it was everything he could have hoped for. With Damian, perhaps he could discover who he was, in this world again. No longer just Dick Grayson. But never again Batman- nor Nightwing.

No, he was something else. Someone new.

And all those times he had thought of Damian when he shouldn’t- suddenly, felt necessary. _Right_.

 _"I watch you pass me by, my words they can't describe._  
_But I can see the gravity way up from the sky._  
_We leave the past behind 'cause we all wanna fly._  
_Deep down in life you can't deny-_  
_We're all the same inside."_  
\- Hollywood Undead, "Gravity"

**Author's Note:**

> This could be a series. A very, very fun series. I keep doing this to myself with my oneshots. Except I have yet to follow through on making any of them a series...


End file.
